The heavy chamber doors groaned open, and the air shifted with a sudden drop in pressure. The messenger stepped inside first, his expression unreadable—but it was who followed that made Silvermist shoot to her feet.
West.
His face was smeared with blood—fresh, wet, and stark against his pale skin. It wasn't his. His uniform were slightly torn, dust clinging to the hem like he'd been dragged through something violent. But it was his eyes that stole her breath.
He wasn't looking at anyone else—just her.
"D-Do you think he hurt someone in the simulation?" Silvermist's voice cracked, filled with panic as she turned to Cullen. Her fingers curled into her sleeves, trembling as if the question itself scared her. "Or—or did someone hurt him?"
Cullen didn't answer immediately.
He didn't have to.
